


The Taming of a Dragon

by LissyStage



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Courtship, Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Out of Character, Romance, Temper Tantrums
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-11
Updated: 2014-07-30
Packaged: 2017-12-18 10:11:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/878608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LissyStage/pseuds/LissyStage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Due to an ancient law put into place long ago, Blaise and Neville, unfortunately, have to wait for Blaise's older brother, Draco, to finally wed before they can even contemplate marriage. However, Draco's infamous temper disallows for such a thing to happen as quickly as they wish. A plan is devised...</p><p>Beta: CleopatraIsMyName</p><p>Warning(s): Total AU. HPDM slash, bottom!Draco, OC, courtship, total fluff, and BZ/NL.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CleopatraIsMyName](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=CleopatraIsMyName).



"My Lord," a quiet voice greeted, bowing deeply towards the other before him. When he brought his head back up, it was as graceful as you would expect a swan.

"Yes?" a deeper, chocolate-silk voice rumbled, a single brow arched in expectation.

"He's here."

Then quite suddenly, the young lord threw his head back and laughed, dulcet tones bouncing off the walls of the corridor.

"Take me to him, Neville," he smiled. "I want a quick word with him."

The brunet chuckled, and then pressed a kiss upon the other young man's cheek. With a turn of his heel, he led the lord over to the meeting chamber.

It didn't take very long before the young lord and his consort found themselves face-to-back with the young man that Neville had spent weeks trying to contact.

The lithe figure drifted over to a shelf of books, thoughtfully skimming the spines until he pulled out a single volume of The Specialized Arts of Divinity.

Neville grinned inwardly. That book was, in fact, another's favorite text to read. The entire set, as it was.

Slowly, the young man turned towards the center of the room. So intent on the pages of the book was he that he hadn't seemed to notice the two teens standing near the doors.

He had made it half-way to the couch before his lord whistled for attention.

His head sprang up, dropping the book in the process. His reflexes allowed him to scramble after the book. Of course, by the fourth time it had been accidentally pushed by a limb, the book fell to the tiled floor.

He winced, and then turned his face up to glare at the both of them, clutching the book in his fist.

"Really, you couldn't have knocked? Or announced your entrance in some way?"

Blaise openly laughed, "Yeah, he's definitely the one."

Neville nodded his head in agreement, smiling beatifically at the man.

"Oh, well," the young man shrugged, nonplussed by the vague answer he'd received. He leaned over to pick up the book and put it back on the shelf, caressing the spine.

Taking a seat on the couch, the raven-haired young man motioned for the two to come towards him. It was as if he was the one who'd called the meeting, and not the other way around.

"Now," he started, looking between Lord Blaise Malfoy and his consort, Neville Longbottom. "What is it that you wanted an audience for, my Lord, consort?"

Blaise wrapped an arm around Neville's shoulders, tugging the younger man against him. "Well, you see, Draco needs to get married."

"The Lord Draco Malfoy?"

"Yes," Blaise said.

"The cold, arrogant one that no one likes?"

Neville opened his mouth to respond, and then quickly shut it.

"Hey," Blaise whined. "Yeah, he's mean. But he's my brother."

"Okay," the young raven-haired man shrugged. "But what is that to do with me?"

"We were wondering if you would... possibly date him?"

The man laughed and shook his head, "Seriously," he said, once his laughter had ceased. "What do you want?"

Neville and Blaise just looked at each other, then back at the young man.

One, two...

"Wait," he sputtered, "me?"

They nodded in synchronization. Neville, more than Blaise, braced himself for a screaming fit. After living with a temperamental blond for years, Blaise had no need to follow Neville in the actions. He just sat there, patiently waiting for the temper to be unleashed.

The younger man before them looked down at his hands, pondering the request.

No one had actually seen the lord in years, ever since he had stopped appearing in public. But rumors spread and festered.

And there were rumors. Tons of them. Like a wildfire, everyone in this side of world had heard about his terrible temper and harsh words. Lord Malfoy was said to be a little spit-fire, and he couldn't believe he was seriously considering this... but he was intrigued. Maybe there was more to that cold-exterior than what seemed?

Raising his head, he sighed, massaged the bridge of his nose, and finally said, "Okay."

As Lord Blaise and his consort stood up and cheered, Harry Potter's only thought was, 'What had he just agreed to?'


	2. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh, the struggle!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings, just cursing! ^~^

  
**Day**  1

* * *

"Blaise, get out!"

"But Draco!"

Blaise reluctantly closed the door, and winced as he felt the impact of fine China against the door.

* * *

**Day 2**

* * *

"Draaaay!" Blaise whinged through the semi-cracked door. "I'm telling you, it'll be fun!"

"Blaise, if you disturb my peace once more, I will throw a house elf at you, and you know how pissed I will be if I have to touch that living filth!"

Shuddering, Blaise closed the door and tiptoed down the hall, wondering how he was ever going to get his brother to agree to the date.

* * *

**Day 6**

* * *

Blaise opened the door by the slightest, and waved his arm at Draco, whispering a minor Silencing Charm at him.

The blond, however, reacted without thinking, and cast an Expelliarmus at his brother.

Blaise hit the wall with a thud. He rubbed his sore shoulder, dropping his wand into a robe pocket.

Draco came out of his room, and shook his head. "You should know better than to keep bothering me, Blaise. What is it that you can possibly want?"

"Go on a date with someone Neville picked out!"

The pale-skinned aristocrat blanched, then shook his head furiously, massaging the bridge of his nose. Not even bothering to give Blaise any sort of acknowledgment, he walked back into his room, slamming the door behind him.

The brunet could feel the powerful wards that Draco had placed around his room, and knew that he would need to catch the blond off-guard, just so he could plead his case.

He walked away, planning the attack on his older brother.

* * *

**Day 14**

* * *

Blaise hid underneath Draco's bed, waiting for the blond.

The door opened, and he could _feel_  his anger through the magical vibrations in the room.

A set of clicking heels alerted him to the presence of one of the servants.

"Didn't I advise you that I only used silk sheets? What did you do to them?"

He winced in sympathy; a Dragon in a rage was nothing to trifle with. She stuttered an explanation.

"You worthless little mudblood; get out of here before I tell Father to dock your pay, or even fire you!"

The younger teen could hear the girl's muffled sobs as she raced through the door, closing it softly behind her.

Draco muttered a few curses, and then settled on his bed.

Pointing his wand through the mattress, Blaise mouthed a few words and waved it, freezing his brother in place.

Crawling out, he placed a Silencing Charm on the temperamental blond, along with an Incarcerous around his wrists.

Taking a deep breath, Blaise said, "Look, Dray, you know what will happen if you don't find a suitable partner before your next birthday."

The blond's eyes grew wide in panic. "Yes, that. So, go on a date with the person that Neville picked out. It's worth the shot, and if you don't... I'll tell dear Mother about time I caught you running around in that Muggle dress. You know that day; I even took pictures. She'll tease for years, and show all of her friends. Now, will you go?"

Blaise relinquished part of the spell's hold on his face, just enough for him to move his head, but not his lips.

Draco nodded reluctantly.

"Finite Incantatem." Blaise intoned, smirking. He walked out of the room, and knew he had earned a ton of respect, however grudgingly, from his older brother.

* * *

**Several days later...**

* * *

Harry turned towards his friend, "Why am I doing this again?"

"Because you find Draco's character fascinating."

"More like I have a death wish..." the raven-haired teen muttered, looking at the trousers in his hand.

They looked intimidating, making him wince at the thought of squeezing into them.

"Harry, just put them on!"

"They look too tight, though, Neville!"

Neville merely placed his hands on his hips, a mannerism Harry had never seen in his friend before. "You've worn plenty worse, or do you not remember the first day we met?"

"How could I forget," the raven-haired teen whinged. "When you keep  _bringing it up_?!"

Neville, however, was looking to the side, with a deadpan look on his face. "Poor Mister Harry Potter, wearing mismatched clothes. It looked like a bright pink skirt, with a matching tank top, before we realized the shorts were merely several sizes too big, the tank top was _very_  tight, and they had just been washed so many times that the weak coloring of the fabric had faded over time..."

Harry shook his head, "Stop talking about that! I got in extra trouble with my aunt for whinging about it!"

Neville turned back, face still sober, "Then put on the bloody outfit."

"Fine, fine," the other teen grunted, slipping on the trousers. He squeaked as he buttoned them up, and glared as Neville chuckled. His friend was just  _no_  help.

Slipping the tight shirt over his head, Harry inspected himself in the mirror. The low trousers were a shade of black he'd never seen before, while his shirt was a deep, forest green. Turning to the side, he noticed a chain wrapped around the waistband, hanging loose above his left side-pocket.

Harry, honestly, looked a little dangerous in his outfit, and turned to Neville with a bewildered expression on his face. "Are you sure I should be wearing this on my first date with Lord Draco?"

Neville nodded, biting on his bottom lip. "Yeah, he likes guys like you. At least, I think."

"What do you mean by that?" Harry asked, sitting on the bed to put on his dragon hide boots.

"It means I'm not very sure, but he looks the type to go after tall, dark, and handsome."

"Okay, whatever," Harry shrugged, not taking his friend seriously. "Wait, think? You're not sure?"

"Of course not, whenever I'm in the room, he's yelling at some poor servant, or stomping around the fucking manor!"

Harry just shook his head in disbelief and then strolled to the bathroom, in order to try and do something with his unmanageable hair.

Neville came in behind him, and rolled his eyes. Harry frowned at the brunet's reflection. "You do something with it, then."

Shaking his head, Neville took off his robes and put them on the counter. Taking a bottle of gel, he squeezed a bit onto the palm of his hand, and used a spell to Conjure up a few drops of water onto his hand.

With a determined set to his face, he set to fixing up Harry's hair.

Half an hour later, and they were walking down the street towards a restaurant.

Oblivion was an exclusive restaurant for the aristocratic Wizarding classes. Anyone who is anyone goes there, at least once.

Neville held out the door for Harry, and they both stepped inside. While Neville had been here many times before with his lover, Harry had never had the same chances he did.

The other teen was marveling at the dark décor, the lights, and the carpet. There were floating tables, just an inch or two off the floor, with candles. All of the couples were too dark for him to see, due to the lighting, and he could sense the use of Silencing Charms.

A waiter greeted them, and asked for their party.

"This man for Potter," Neville advised, pointing at his friend. "And I am for Zabini."

With a nod of his head, the wizard took out his wand, and two little balls. Reciting a practiced incantation, he gave one each to Neville and Harry.

"They will activate in a few seconds, and take you to your assigned room."

With a raised eyebrow, Harry just shrugged - something he usually did to say, 'I don't understand what is going on, but this is magic; I'll just go with it.'

After those few seconds, Harry felt a pull on his navel, constriction, and tumbled to the floor. Picking himself up from the floor, he stuffed the ball in his pocket and dusted himself off, straightening the clothes that it had taken him ages to put on.

"Well, that was an amusing entrance," a cold, mocking voice interrupted his musings. Harry just continued what he was doing and said, "I have never been able to get used to magical transportation."

Looking up, he tried to keep the shock and interest off his face. The Lord, Draco Malfoy, was... hot, to say the least.

He was pale, had the most unique shade of blond hair, and had piercing, gray-blue eyes.

He was wearing silver and blue, colors that accentuated his lithe figure. He wore tight trousers, very much more so than Harry's own pair, with a snake belt around his waist. He wore his oxford shirt loose, open. The shirt underneath it was tight enough that Harry could see he was thin, but not unhealthily so, but loose enough that it looked very comfortable, and rather soft to the touch.

Harry was having a similar effect on Draco, though he was better able to hide it. The man before him was just... wow. Despite being a waste of his time, he could see the man's rippling muscles beneath his tight, dark green shirt, which matched his eyes. His trousers teased, and the chain just made him look even more dangerous. Draco wondered how those strong arms would feel, wound around his smaller wai-.

He cut off that thought process, not even venturing down that road.

Harry, unlike Draco, was tanned, as if he spent most of his life beneath the sun.

Mentally, Harry thanked Neville for the opportunity.

Mentally, Draco was thinking up a million ways to get back at Blaise and his cursed little boyfriend.


	3. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please thank CleopatraIsMyName for helping me with the French dishes and the wine. Oh, gosh. I had no idea what to write for it xD

The first few moments of their dinner together was full of tension. So much so that you could probably take the proverbial knife to it, and it wouldn't be able to make any head-way.

Harry squinted at his menu, and hoped it would turn to English. Languages had never been his strong-point, and especially not French.

Tapping his fingers softly on the table, he glanced around at the secluded room they would be dining in.

It was definitely dark, though there were some magically-infused lights floating above them at the ceiling.

The table he was sitting at, with Draco, had a romantic atmosphere to it: white cloth, dark wood, odd silver bell, even the handkerchief he might have to put to use looked posh.

Though the teen across from him was gorgeous, just handsome in every way, Harry was cursing Neville and his inattentiveness.

This was why Harry had misgivings about taking Lord Draco on a date; he would, probably, embarrass himself. Not even probably, he would... since the fucking menu was in French, and he couldn't understand a lick of it!

Willing the blush from his frustration down, he started at the sound of a throat clearing.

"Are you just going to admire the view, or are you going to pick something off the menu to eat?" the Lord asked spitefully, legs crossed at the heel.

He hadn't even known he was staring, though Harry still nodded his head. Taking a deep breath, the teen then confessed, "I can't read French."

Draco scoffed, "You're a wizard, aren't you?"

The raven-haired teen looked at him blankly, blinking his eyes.

Draco muttered darkly under his breath, something that sounded suspiciously like, "Oh, he's an idiot, too?"

Eye twitching at the insult he was sure he'd just heard the blond mutter, Harry took his wand out of his pocket. "Okay, what would you like me to do, My Lord?"

Scowling at Harry's tone, Draco explained, "Just wave your wand over the menu, you sodding berk. It says at the top to do that for translations."

Harry brought the menu closer to his face, then frowned, "Where?"

"Find it yourself," the blond stated, rudely. "I'm not your mother."

"Obviously not," Harry murmured, squinting at the tiny text at the top.

"Hm, what was that?"

"Nothing, dear," Harry mocked, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "It just seems that I have, somehow, managed to miss the text conveniently located at the  _very top_  the menu, stating how to bring about the translation."

Shaking his head in disbelief, Harry waved his wand over the menu, and the translations for the items appeared next to the French dishes.

Harry asked, "Okay, how do we order?"

Draco leaned forward in his seat, picked up the bell Harry had seen earlier, and rung it.

A waiter appeared to their left, "Are you ready to order, sirs?"

Draco merely said, in a bored tone, "Pâté de Fois Gras and Beef Bourguignon. Oh, and the Cabernet Sauvignon."

Looking pointedly at Draco, Harry then turned towards the waiter and answered, "Yes, may I have the Bouillabaisse and Steak Daine?"

The waiter smiled and nodded, then asked, "And what would you like on the side?"

"We'll both have the Pomme Duchess and Petit Pois."

The young man before them left, promising that the food would be ready shortly.

When they were left to their own devices, Lord Draco remarked, "For someone who can't read French, you can certainly pronounce it."

Harry shrugged, "I can pronounce it, but I won't understand what it is I'm saying."

Nodding his head, Draco asked, "So, just French?"

"No," Harry frowned. "I have the same problem with Spanish, Italian, Swedish, and Japanese."

"Ah," he remarked, face blank.

The silence between the two was unbearable, but neither knew how to break it.

That is, until the wine came.

"Urgh," Harry grunted, frowning at the blond's choice of wine. "I used to work at the winery that makes this. I can't stand the smell anymore."

Draco sneered at the raven-haired teen's obnoxious remark. "Well, it's no concern of mine," he said, uncorking the bottle and pouring the wine into his glass.

He twirled the glass around, smelled it, and then drank from it. Harry gave him a funny look.

"What?" the blond virtually growled, putting down his glass.

"Nothing," he said, drumming his hands on his thighs.

The food came quickly, and they ate quietly, neither willing to speak to the other. However, then the mischievous side of Harry sprang up, and he knew exactly what to say.

"You know," Harry started, lifting a spoon to his mouth. "You're nice when you don't speak."

Draco sent him a scathing glare. "I would rather not even be here, with you."

"I don't know," Harry smirked, sipping at his soup. "It looked like you were pretty glad, earlier."

Dropping his fork to his plate, Draco asked, "Excuse me?"

"Considering you were staring at me, as long as I was staring at you, I'm going to guess you liked what you saw a lot more than you're willing to admit."

Draco made a noise at the back of his throat, "You uncouth, sodding, fucking..."

"Go on," Harry waved his hand at the blond wizard. "I want to hear the rest."

Grunting, Draco took several deep breaths, trying to calm the need to wrap his hands around the other teen's throat, and squeeze the life out of him.

When he felt he was ready to proceed eating, he picked up his fork again.

"Did you realise you had an iron grip on your knife the entire time?"

"Looks like one part of my body didn't want to listen when I tried to contain my need for murder."

"Well, I applaud you for trying."

He could see the blond lord was gritting his teeth in irritation, and it made Harry want to giggle. Oh, how playing with fire seemed to always thrill him.

He was definitely going to thank Neville later on.

Although, he hoped the brunet was able to escape the blond's wrath when they left the restaurant.

* * *

 

**In the Room Next Door...**

* * *

Blaise laughed at Harry's remark on Draco's staring, then glanced at Neville. "Nev, he's brilliant!"

"See?" Neville preened, arms crossed in front of his chest. "Harry is just the right one to handle someone like Draco."

Blaise shook his head in wonder, and sat back down at the table. "I love you," he smiled, leaning forward to lay a chaste kiss upon his lover's lips.

Neville chuckled, "As I do you!"


	4. Chapter 3

Taking a long look around the restaurant, Neville found himself grinning foolishly. After all, it's not every day that you could say, "I set Lord Draco Malfoy up with someone!"

And, it was true. Lord Draco didn't like to be pushed into things. He refused to be set up; he refused to leave his room - unless it was his decision - and spent the days being an annoying git.

But he has his good points. Harry would definitely see them. Harry was just the type of person to do so.

Sitting at the table, located at the centre of the dark room, Neville patiently waited for his lover to appear.

As if he had heard his inner thoughts, Neville heard the distinctive sound of the spherical portkey's  _whoosh_. In that, once empty, space stood his love.

Neville allowed his eyes to travel up and down Blaise's body, taking in his muggle clothing. It suited him just fine; the shirt punctuated his masculine curves, and left Neville drooling in response.

You see, it was always customary for Blaise to wear a different style than he was normally accustomed to. It was his small rebellion, since his father always stressed the importance of formal attire, at all times.

Smirking at the effect he had on his lover, Blaise walked towards Neville, brushing his lips against the brunet's forehead. Plopping down into his seat, he leaned back.

"Harry seemed excited," Neville finally broke the silence, head resting in his hand.

"Draco was a total prat the entire time," Blaise whinged. "He complained about his clothing, the restaurant, why he had to go, and then he had the nerve to question my motives!" Blaise made a raspberry noise at that. "Me, his younger brother. Like I have ulterior motives, besides seeing my older sibling happy, for once."

Neville threw his head back and laughed at Blaise.

"What?" Blaise narrowed his eyes, straightening up in his seat. "Why are you laughing?"

"Because, Love," Neville snorted, shaking his head. "You  _do_  have an ulterior motive."

"Of course I do," Blaise sniffed, picking up his menu to look over. "But he didn't need to be so vehement about it."

"Surrrreeee," the brunet drawled, crossing his legs at the ankle. He looked over his menu, though he already knew exactly what he wanted.

"I swear, the menu never changes," Blaise broke the silence. "I hate eating the same damn thing every time."

"How about you try something else?"

"But it scares me to try something new!" the dark-haired teen shuddered in revulsion.

"Then," Neville started, placing the menu on the white table cloth. "How about you and I change orders? You get what I usually get, I get what you usually get, you don't like, we switch."

Beaming, Blaise nodded his head. "Brilliant, Nev."

"Not really," Neville blushed, playing with the silverware.

"Neville," Blaise spoke seriously, looking him in the eyes. "You know I don't like it when you put yourself down. Just accept the fact that you're intelligent."

Nodding his head, Neville felt himself flush a darker shade. Blaise was always so sweet. Neville tried to believe it, but it was always so hard to accept. And, he now felt like a total girl.

Clearing his throat, Neville asked, "Ready to order?"

Blaise bobbed his head enthusiastically. "Can I ring the bell?"

Neville rolled his eyes fondly, and then motioned for Blaise to do so. "Be my guest."

Looking at the teen oddly, probably at the odd metaphor, Blaise slammed his hand on the bell/buzzer/thingy. The waiter  _plomped_  in, and glanced at the both of them.

"Good evening, sirs," he greeted politely. "Have you decided on your order?"

Blaise nodded, and said, "For our starter, we would like the Dozen Baked Snails, with garlic, parsley, pernod butter and breadcrumbs."

The waiter nodded his head, writing it down. "And for your main?"

"I would like Gratinated Duck Confit 'Parmentier' with Celeriac and Potato Mash."

"And I," Neville grinned, "would like the Grilled Marinated Chicken with lemon."

"Honey served, or no?"

Neville nodded his head, already anticipating eating the food. The chef of this restaurant prided himself in the taste, and the complements of the flavours. It would, undoubtedly, be delicious.

"Any sides?"

"We'll both have the Tomato, Shallot, Basil, and Virgin Olive Oil Salad. For our wine, surprise us with anything white."

The man smiled, and then tucked his materials away in his pocket. "The food shall be ready shortly."

Blaise and Neville waved him away, and sat in companionable silence. That is, until Blaise had a sudden idea.

Standing up, he strode towards the wall, taking out a pair of Extendable Ears.

"And where did you get those?"

"Never you mind that," Blaise answered lazily. "I'm just going to listen to what they are talking about."

After a few minutes, Blaise was rolling on the floor, laughing his ass off. "Oh, he is brilliant! Their bickering is hilarious!"

Neville chuckled at his lover's childish behaviour. "Come on. The food will arrive any second."

Blaise held up a single finger, and then listened closely. Another few minutes later, Neville announced the arrival of the starters.

"I'm so glad I chaperoned," he sighed, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes.

Neville just shook his head in amusement, picking up his fork. "So, they getting on?"

"Better than anybody else Draco has dated," Blaise answered calmly, filling his plate up. "They are usually pissed off by the end, and damn him to the fiery pits of hell."

Neville blinked at that, "And what's going on over there?"

"Potter has him sputtering, of all things. He took him off his high-horse, which has never happened."

Neville grinned smugly at that, feeling rather pleased with himself.

When they had uncorked the wine, an expensive bottle of Sancerre, Domaine des Vieux Pruniers, Blaise relayed the details of the conversation he had eavesdropped on.

By the time he was finished, due to the commentary he plugged in, they had started their main, and Neville was laughing so hard that he was hugging himself and pleading for mercy.

"My sides," he cried out.

"Okay, okay. Let's finish eating," Blaise conceded, drinking from his glass of wine.

By the end of the dinner, Neville and Blaise had tried to plan out how they were going to get Draco to go out with Harry, again.

"You see," Blaise began, wiping off his mouth. "Draco disarmed me once, threw china at me, and even slammed the door on my face. And that was from just knocking on his door, or entering his room."

"How do you think he's going to react when you ask him to go on another one?"

"I fear for my life," Blaise deadpanned.

As the silence descended upon them both, Neville twirled his glass of wine in fingers. Then, an idea was born.

"I have a plan..." he smirked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone want some china throwing, and expensive artefact breaking, next chapter? ;D


	5. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning(s): Cursing :D

“Draco, just what is it that you’re trying to accomplish?” Lord Malfoy asked calmly, sipping his morning tea.

His eldest son, Draco, looked up from his mumbles. “What do you mean?”

Lucius merely raised an eyebrow at the blond’s coy behaviour, pointedly looking at the large tome within his hands.

Draco shrugged his slender shoulders, face skewed in determination. “Revenge.”

“On whom?”

“Blaise.”

* * *

_Several hours later…_

* * *

A scream tore throughout the manor, frightening Narcissa. The house elf that was standing behind her, punishing itself, even paused in its actions. Glancing at the elf, she waved it away, ignoring the glimmer of unshed tears in its huge eyes.

Closing the door right before the audible _pop_ , Narcissa strode gracefully towards her sons’ living quarters.

Rounding a corner of the corridor, she could overhear the familiar sounds of china being tossed at a wall, and a heated argument. From the voices, she could tell both belonged to Blaise and Draco, just as she had thought. Blaise must’ve done something to anger Draco, though she could only imagine what. Draco had an irrational temper, and could pop at any given moment.

When they were finally within her sights, she spotted Blaise being hung upside-down by one foot, dangling in mid-air. Draco was waving his wand this way and that, adding to the brunet’s nervousness. As Blaise screamed in fright at every unexpected movement, the flaxen-haired teen threw another dish from his huge pile at the wall.

“ _Draco_!” she scolded, hands on her hips.

“Yes, Mother?” he questioned, glancing in her direction.

“Why are you torturing your younger brother?”

“Because he _virtually_ forced me to go on a date with an _idiot_!”

Blaise scoffed, and then squealed when Draco moved his wand in rapid zigzags.

“You know you liked Harry, Draco! Admit it!”

“No, you moron! What makes you think I’d ever like someone that can’t even figure out how to translate the menus at _The Oblivion_?”

“He was cute, right?”

“Shut the fuck up!” Draco screamed, a bowl crashing into the wall. “I hated him! Why are you making me go on dates with people?”

“Because Neville and I are serious, and you are the eldest son!”

Draco turned around, grey eyes a storm of silvers. “ _Ohhhh_ , I knew you were just using me!”

“Of course I was!” Blaise yelled back. “After all, I grew up with the best!”

Draco snarled, “He’s a half-blood!”

“No one cares about blood politics anymore, Draco!”

Narcissa cleared her throat and clapped her hands, hushing both of her sons immediately. It was quite a comedic scene: Draco had a huge plate in one hand and his wand in the other, pointed straight at his, still dangling, younger brother.

“None of that,” she sniffed, hands on her waist. “Now, Draco, let down your brother.”

“I don’t want to!” he huffed. The knuckles of his right hand, where he firmly held the plate, were white from the intensity of his grasp.

She gave him a _Look_ , and he easily complied, grumbling under his breath about meddling parents. Blaise ended up landing on the floor in an ungraceful heap - due to his older siblings’ careless actions - and then stood up, unsteadily, on his legs.

“Now, Blaise,” she turned towards the brunet. “Are you truly sure that this is right for your brother?”

“You should’ve seen them at dinner last night,” he smirked. Narcissa pointedly ignored Draco’s flushed cheeks and gritted teeth, leaning in closer. Blaise brushed his hands down his robes, removing any wrinkles by hand, and nonchalantly added, “Harry had Draco stuttering his responses within ten minutes.”

Narcissa gasped, “Really?”

They both looked at Draco simultaneously, and then back at each other. “That’s quite something…”

Draco shook his head and threw the plate he was holding at the wall. Narcissa winced at the sound of impact. “ _No_ , he did not. And how do you know that, anyway?”

Blaise turned away, walking towards the direction of his own living quarters. “Never you mind that. Just know that Harry is going to be here for lunch, and you should probably get dressed.”

“ _I’m not going on another date with him_!”

“Who said it was for you?” Blaise questioned, back still turned. “Neville just wants to see him again. After all, they _are_ childhood friends.”

Draco grumbled under his breath, and then raised his voice, “Minky!”

A house elf _popped_ by his side, bowing slightly. “Yes, Lord Draco?”

“Clean this mess up.” He sniffed, turning towards the door to his rooms. “There shouldn’t be a shard left after you’re finished, or you’re ironing your ears again.”

“Of course, Lord Draco.” She sniveled wetly, snapping her fingers in the direction of the fragments of table ware.

* * *

_Two hours later…_

* * *

Blaise banged on his older brother’s door. “Draco!”

No answer was forthcoming. Grumbling under his breath about spoiled older gits, the brunet took out his wand and cast a complex Charm on the door. It unlocked without a sound.

Looking both ways within the room, he stepped inside.

“Oi!” a voice called behind him. Jumping, he gripped the left-side of his chest.

“Oh, Draco. I thought you were still in there.” Blaise claimed, backing out of the blond’s room. Draco cast a quick Jinxing Hex, causing the brunet to fall over,

“Owww!” he cried out, clutching his head in pain. “What’d you do that for?”

“Just letting you know I’m keeping a grudge.”

“Yeah, even though we both know you like him…”

Draco pointed his wand at the middle of Blaise’s forehead, smiling in such a way that didn’t reach his eyes. “What did you just say?”

“Nothing at all.”

A few minutes later found them sashaying to the Dining Hall of the Manor. Draco was glaring at his feet, looking more wary by the second.

“Draco,” Blaise began. The blond scowled at him in response, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Blaise sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose. “Look, I know you think you don’t like Harry.”

The teen turned his head away, visually snubbing such a ridiculous idea. Him, like that annoying prat?

“Fine, I know you don’t like Harry. But, you’ll like it, I promise.”

The words that the blond wizard grumbled in response sounded suspiciously like, “We’ll see about that.”

When the two siblings got to the doors leading to the Hall, they heard laugher within. Glancing at each other, they opened the doors concurrently and paused.

Harry and Neville were standing at a long table with several different items stacked upon it, along with some silverware. Five tubs and several smaller jars were placed upon another one, spaced evenly apart from each other.

“What’re you doing?” Blaise asked as he got closer, Draco trudging reluctantly behind him. Neville smiled broadly at his lover.

“Oh, we’re setting up a mini-ice cream parlour,” Harry waved off, wiping a broad line of some white substance off his nose.

“Ice cream parlour?” Draco questioned curiously, looking at the huge tubs in contemplation.

“Yeah,” Neville continued, handing the raven-haired teen several ice cream scoopers. “Harry thought it would be fun to eat this after lunch. After all, we hardly eat it as it is.”

Draco glanced in Harry’s direction as the wizard placed the scoopers in a large bowl of water. There were several different types of ice cream on the table he was at, along with a few sauces. _The house elves probably had a rather large fright when they asked for all the supplies_ , he mused to himself.

The teen met his gaze and winked at him, causing Draco to scowl. _He’s even worse than I remember, the bastard_.

Shrugging his shoulders, the blond teen stomped towards the table, taking a seat at his usual place. One of the house elves, probably Duck from the kitchens, _popped_ in with a dish and laid it in front of him. Waving him off, Draco picked up his spoon and sipped quietly at the soup, smiling to himself at the flavour. Then, remembering himself, he scowled.

 _Stupid Blaise_ , he thought. _He’s making me go soft._

Feeling a presence at his back, Draco remarked, “Don’t you have to go and set up those things?”

Harry fell into the seat next to Draco, elbows resting on the table as he leaned forward. “Nah, I’m done.”

Draco physically removed the raven-haired teen’s offensive elbows off the table top, and then growled when the _frustrating_ git pointedly put them back.

“You shouldn’t frown so much,” he remarked, offhandedly, picking at some lint on his robes. “You’ll cause wrinkles. You don’t want to wrinkle at such a young age, do you?”

Gritting his teeth, Draco called out for Neville. “Oi, Longbottom! Don’t you have some task for this berk? He’s annoying the fuck out of me!”

“Harry!” Neville seemed to admonish. “You shouldn’t annoy Draco so early. He might kill you!”

Blaise then chimed in, “No, Neville, Draco wouldn’t do that to Harry. He likes him too much.”

Banging his fist on the table, the blond looked up and yelled, “Stop saying that! And you,” he pointed at the teen that was stifling his laughter. “This isn’t funny at all!”

“You know, you’re pretty cute when you’re heated up.” Harry smirked when that got the reaction he wanted, and the blond blushed a light pink.

“I’m not _cute_ , you idiot!”

“’Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,’ and all that rot, yeah?”

The blond made an exasperated noise, and then huffed.

When the ice cream supplies were finally set up, Blaise and Neville joined the two bantering teens at the table, facing towards them. Half-way through their respective bowls of soup, Harry cleared his throat and addressed Neville, “Your granny wanted me to tell you that your garden’s doing very well, by the way.”

Grinning, Neville nodded his head. “I knew they would. Those brats that live next door really love working there.”

“Garden?” Blaise questioned, relieving Draco of the sudden burst of curiosity,

“Oh, yeah,” Neville nodded, cutting from a loaf of bread. “When I was younger, I was very passionate about magical and muggle plants. I have a few hybrids over in a huge greenhouse Harry built for his relatives.”

“They never used it, though. I think it was just another way to get me out of the way.” He sighed, sipping noisily at his soup. Draco was sure he was just doing that to irritate him, further.

“Oh, and they seem the same. George told me that he caught your cousin bullying a group of little boys at the park.”

“At his age?” Harry furrowed his brow, disgust written all over his face. “He needs to grow up. Why my aunt and uncle spoiled his lard arse that long is beyond me.”

The rest of the meal was spent in silence, no one really knowing how to break through it. Draco stood up from his seat and strode towards the ice cream. He called for Harry over his shoulder and asked, “How should I begin?”

Unbeknownst to the soon bickering teens, Neville and Blaise shared an amused smile, and a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you understand what the term tsundere means, then you'll know how I'm modeling Draco's personality. :D
> 
> I was sick for a few days - in fact, I'm still out of breath and wheezing, since my asthma uses this as a trigger - so I wasn't able to write any, sorry!
> 
> Um, I've been watching tons of Gintama, so my writing has turned cartoonistic for this Harry Potter fic. Usually, that's left for my Junjou Romantica fics xD Hope you don't mind the slight change in description and style.
> 
> Please continue to leave comments ^~^


	6. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings, except for cursing. Sorry for the lapse in updates, but high school leaves little room for stories. Especially when you're still adjusting.

After they had settled down with their ice cream, Harry couldn't help but smirk a little, in satisfaction, as Draco closed his eyes in pure bliss. That was one of his many special ice creams: chocolate sauce, brownie pieces, drops of chocolates, and an assortment of different flavours. It never stopped tasting good, though he always he had to make sure he didn't eat too much; wouldn't do to have a stomach ache, now would it?

Neville and his lover were sitting closer together than was needed, and they were whispering and laughing softly, exchanging sweet looks and smiles.

Harry sighed and averted his gaze, stifling a laugh when he noticed the streaks of multi-coloured ice cream around the blond's mouth.

Draco's expression was full of determination, as he slowly relished the ice cream. What Harry needed to know was: how had he managed to get ice cream on his cheek?

Turning fully towards Lord Draco, Harry reached over to divert his spoonful back to its previous domain.

"What is it, Potter?" the teen sniffed, lips stuck out in an unconscious pout. Harry felt the urge to kiss them until they swelled up, but stifled it. The young lord would be pissed off he did such a thing, even if he honestly enjoyed it.

"You have ice cream all around your mouth," he chuckled, touching a finger to the corner of his mouth, and another to his cheek, and licking the digits clean. He noticed, with amusement, that the blond had followed the entire journey, and stuck around for the finger-licking, too.

"Ew!" he squealed, a light dust of rouge prominent on his pale face. "Why would you do that, you git?!"

He indignantly made a point to use the handkerchief kerchief and use a bit of the water from one of the glasses, dabbing at his cheeks and mouth. Harry gave him a thumbs up when he glanced up for confirmation, and then the blond had the nerve to roll his eyes.  _The spoilt prat_ , Harry thought fondly.

Harry turned to dig into his own ice cream, and then slyly remarked, "Ya know, Lord Draco… I had no idea you were such a messy eater."

He could  _feel_  the death glare in its intensity, but it only made him grin all the brighter. The blond was so entertaining and interesting, especially when he got fired up and angry.

* * *

**A Few Days Later…**

* * *

Draco was playing target practice with the house elves. Again.

Of course, they weren't aware of it, so they merely squeaked and scurried about, until Draco's old nanny elf spied him.

"Lord Draco," he sputtered. Draco had no idea how he understand that he had sputtered, exactly, but it seemed to be a given when it came to particular elves. "What is yous doing to the other elves?"

"Trying to see if Minky and Dinky can outrun the Stinging Hexes," he answered boredly, swinging his wand to and fro. He raised it subtly, and Dobby calmly  _Summoned_  it.

"Oi!"

"Yous get it back once Lord Draco says he sorry to smaller elves."

Draco grumbled under his breath, and tensed when Dobby sent him a  _Look_. Straightening up, he placed a hand over his heart, and said, "I'm sorry, Dinky and Minky…"

They both looked up with tears gathering in the corners of their huge eyes, and Draco cringed at the disturbing sight. Pouting at his misfortune, he turned back towards Dobby and held out his hand. Dobby tapped his foot and pointedly gestured for Draco to get on with it.

"Fucking elf," he muttered his breath darkly, avoiding Dobby's glare. "Fine, may I please have my wand back?"

Dobby sighed and handed it back,  _popping_  off to only Merlin knew where. Draco hoped he didn't encounter that particular elf for a while; he was such a spoil sport, and made Draco _apologize_  for things he didn't want to.

His robes billowed about his lithe frame as he stomped away. When he rounded the next corner, he ran into a chest.

"Ow!" he cried out, holding his head. The dulcet tones of the taller man told him all he need to know when he replied, "Draco, hasn't your mother taught you your basic manners?"

The blond grinned brightly, wrapping his arms around his godfather. "Uncle Sev!"

"Impudent brat," the man muttered, stepping out of range of his arms. "What have I told you about addressing me as such?"

"That it wasn't befitting of a young man of my lineage, and one of your title?" Draco chuckled, arms crossed in front of his chest.

Severus Snape's lips quirked up just the tiniest bit on the edges, as he pulled his godson into a hug, "How are you?"

"Truly awful," Draco sniffed as he let go of the older man. "Blaise has got it into his head that I need to ' _find someone_.'" He put air-quotes around those last two words, emphasising how utterly moronic he found the entire idea.

"Oh?" Severus arched in eyebrow. "And with whom had he set you up?"

"Harry Potter," he muttered. He fought vainly against the blush that sprinkled across his cheeks. When he looked up, the blond noticed the tenseness in his godfather's posture.

Bewildered, he stepped closer and waved his hand in front of his face, "Uncle Sev?"

The greasy-haired man seemed to snap out of his daze as he replied, "What is it?"

"Nothing," Draco answered, shrugging off that weird moment. Obviously, there was something there to Harry Potter, but Draco would rather not think about the speccy git for another moment.

Smiling brightly, the blond suggested, "Didn't you say you would have something for me?"

Severus nodded his head, and led Draco over to his private rooms. When they got there, the man opened one of his trunks and rummaged inside, before pulling out two bags: one for candy, and another for an assortment of clothes.

Draco did  _not_  squeal, but he did let out a sharp sound belying his joy. Sitting down at one of the couches, he proceeded to open up the bags, while Severus looked on fondly.

Several minutes later, Draco unearthed new fashionable robes, two pairs of dragon hide boots, and several new trousers and shirts, all in a variation of designs and styles. His bag of candy held several new experimental ones from Bernard's Chocolate Emporium.

A house elf  _popped_  in, and alerted Draco that Potter was looking for him.

"Urgh," the blond grumbled. As he stood up and carefully straightened his robes, he commanded the tiny creature to carefully pack away all of his new things and leave them in his rooms to peruse at his leisure.

"Sorry, Uncle Sev," he raced out, chuckling when an indignant shout of ridicule caught his ears, just when the door was closing.

The portraits down the halls were having their own discussions, one so raunchy that Draco hoped to scrub his ears out, by the end of the day… or, at least,  _Obliviate_  himself.

Potter was waiting in the library, seated at one of the tables and reading through a children's book. It was  _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_ , one of the most unusual of books, and Draco merely watched Potter read the book, resting his head on his arms.

When Potter finally looked up, he jumped and placed a hand over his heart.

"Merlin, Draco!" he exclaimed, catching his breath. "That was _quite_  the fright you just gave me."

"Not my fault you're an unobservant moron," he shrugged, tugging a loose strand of hair back behind an ear. "Now, what did you want?"

Potter blinked slowly, "What do you mean? I didn't call for you."

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose, inhaling and exhaling, "My stupid brother, then."

Before Draco had a chance to stand up and leave, Potter placed a hand on his arm, and smiled sheepishly, "Can you please keep me company?"

"I don't know," Draco answered uninterestedly, inspecting his nails. "Can I?"

Potter made a sound of exasperation and said, "Fine, you prat.  _May_ you please keep me company?"

Draco smirked at his one-up and nodded slowly. After a few seconds of awkward silence passed by, he cleared his throat.

"Why are y-"

"How do y-"

Both of them chuckled at the silliness, since Draco hadn't been able to catch himself before letting loose the sound.

"Why are you reading that particular book?" he continued.

Potter shrugged, "I've never read it before."

Draco's grey eyes widened, "Most people have read those tales, though."

"My parents died when I was younger, a crazed wizard attacked them. I was placed with my aunt and uncle, but they never really cared for me. Neville lived a few houses down, and we played together, often.

"One day I was playing at his house, when I accidentally _Summoned_  the paint we were fighting over. His grandmother was watching over us, and introduced me to the Wizarding World."

Draco frowned at the synopsis of the teen's life, as of now, and wondered just how much he had left out.

"My turn," Potter murmured, smiling lopsidedly.  _Dammit_ , Draco's heart didn't go  _putter putter_  at his goofy grin. "How do you think our dates have been going, so far?"

Draco looked away, huffing slightly, "I'm not answering that question."

"Why?" asked Potter, smugly, "Afraid of what the answer will be?"

Draco could feel his cheeks flushing hotter, and stood up to leave. Just when he had made it to the door, Potter grabbed hold of his arm and pushed him against the door. The teen let go of the blond's arm and placed his hands at either side of his head, though he kept a distance. Draco was thankful, as he didn't know if he could handle any contact.

"Let me go!" he gritted his teeth, taking out his wand. Potter took it smoothly out of his hand, causing Draco's eyes to widen. That had never happened before…

"Draco, an honest answer is all I want," Potter pleaded, and Draco reluctantly ceased his half-hearted struggles.

"Who gave you permission to take off the title?"

"Dammit,  _Lord Draco_ ," the teen cursed snidely, tone dripping with sarcasm. "Just answer the fucking question?"

"They are going… okay…"

"Oh, okay," Potter smiled. Draco was looking down at his crossed arms, refusing to meet the gaze of the youth. "So it would be okay if I did this…?"

Suddenly, Potter's lips were on Draco's, and Draco was frozen. Before he knew it, he was opening his mouth up to the other teen's tongue, and he was moaning and twining his arms around his neck, and it was just…

And then the entire situation caught up to him and he weakly pushed at the raven-haired wizard's chest. The snog continued for a little while longer, before Potter pulled back and sighed, lips swollen from kisses stolen, and Draco thought he looked little worse for wear.

"So, how was that?" Potter leaned in closer, lips brushing the shell of Draco's ear, breath warming it the slightest bit. Draco couldn't help but shiver at the unfamiliar sensation.

"That… was okay, too…" he hated how weak his voice sounded. Clearing his throat, he aimed a glare at Potter and said, "Just because I said the dates were okay, doesn't automatically equal snog."

Potter, to his irritation, merely waved it off and chuckled, "It does in my mind, so…"

"Your mind is a frightening place, and I wish no part in whatever deviant ideas it comes up with. Now, " he fixed up his robes and hair as best he could, and then slipped out of Potter's arms, opening the door to the hallway. "I need to go."

He cursed Potter as he heard the teen's laughter echo off the library's wall, hoping that one of the nanny elves finds him and gives him a stern lecture.

With the image of Potter begging forgiveness from Dobby in mind, Draco headed out to do some extra target practice.

 


	7. Chapter 6

"And so," Blaise commented, leafing through a book at the table. "It was unlike any other date we'd had. Neville was just plain handsome, and I felt so lucky to have him by my side..."

Draco murmured a noise, signalling for his younger brother to go on with the story. He needn't have worried, though, for Blaise was bright and cheerful, recounting the afternoon and evening he had spent with his beau, Neville. As the brunet carried on and on about everything from the shops they'd visited, to the Eiffel Tower in all its glory, Draco's eyes trailed down Harry's wide and strong shoulders, sweeping down his lean back and his buttocks.

"And then, I told the lady dragon, 'No, you needn't mind me, for I am a goat of the greatest variety...'"

"Mmhmm," Draco hummed, palm of his hand supporting his head as he continued watching Harry.

"Draco!" Blaise suddenly barked, hand coming down on the tabletop. The blond nearly jumped a metre in the air, so startled was he.

"What is it, Blaise?" Draco pouted, rubbing the poor, bruised elbow that had hit the side of the table with a loud thump. "I was listening!"

"No, you weren't," Blaise shook his head. "You've been practically drooling since he," he hooked a thumb in the brunet's direction, "came in, looking for that book on some Transfiguration spells, or some such."

As Draco immediately protested the assertion, he hadn't been drooling in the least, he heard the unmistakable sound of muffled chuckles. He stole a glance at Potter, eyes narrowed as he realised the shaking of his back did not, sadly, indicate he'd contracted some sort of cold; no, the giant git was laughing at him.

Standing up suddenly from the chair, Draco stomped out of the library, footfalls echoing down the narrow corridor of the winding staircase.

After profusely cursing a few house elves, and nearly getting scolded by Dobby when he'd almost caught him in the corridors near the old nursery room, Draco felt he'd effectively managed to calm that burning fire within him - the rage against Potter he'd been harbouring for the past few hours had managed to simmer down to ash.

Rubbing his cheeks with his hands - they were much warmer, in comparison - Draco leaned against the wall for a few seconds, and twitched an eye when a pop, he was starting to think those sounds were just a way to annoy him even further, alerted him to the presence of a lone, brave soul.

Clearing his throat at the elf's impervious gaze, obviously his mother or father's own private elf, he nodded his head at it.

"Yes?"

"Missus Parkinson's waits for you at the drawing room."

With another pop, the elf was gone, and Draco felt a new burst of excitement awaken within him. Turning towards the direction of the drawing room, he allowed his short strides to greet his best girl friend, sooner rather than later.

When he arrived at the doors, he smoothed down his robes and opened the door nonchalantly.

"Hello, Pans," he greeted, hiding all of his excitement beneath a thin mask of aloofness. She brightened at his words, already jumping up to latch onto him in a strong embrace.

"Draco!" She exclaimed, letting go of the blond to instead lean back and get a good look at his face. She narrowed her gaze at him, before commenting, "You look as if you've just been burning off a lot of steam."

Nodding his head, he replied, "Blaise managed to get under my skin, again."

"Brothers," they both murmured, sharing a significant glance and sympathetic smiles.

"So, what brings you here at this neck of the woods?"

"I heard from Blaise's boy toy," Draco shook his head in exasperation at the nicknamed she'd coined for Neville. "That you've got someone courting you. Someone tall, dark, and handsome."

Draco crossed his arms in front his chest: "So?"

"So..." she trailed off, lifting an eyebrow at his posture. "Someone," she jabbed a long, manicured finger on Draco's chest. "Forgot to inform me of this bit of major news. Darling, why did I have to find this out from Neville, of all people?"

"Well," Draco drawled, hiding a wince. "It's been a rather long two weeks."

Pansy turned and sat back down on the chaise, patting the cushion next to her. "I'm here, and I have the time. Now, spill."

Groaning, Draco settled himself in for a rather elaborate story-telling.

By the time he'd finished, Pansy was about bouncing in her seat; the only show of whirling emotions within her the tap of her heeled shoe against the floor.

"So, were you staring at Potter's arse in the library?"

Draco made a noncommittal sound, waving off the question with a hand. "What matters most is how Blaise made it blatantly loud, and very clear, that I wasn't paying attention."

"Draco," Pansy started. She cut herself off with a loud, unladylike groan of exasperation.

"Pansy," he mocked her.

They both made ugly faces at each other, before collapsing into fits of laughter. After several seconds, Draco brought his head back up, a single hand wiping away tears at the corners of his eyes.

When Pansy composed herself, she gazed into his eyes and said, "Just admit you like him."

"But, I don't."

"Yes, you do."

"No, I don't."

"Draco!" She exclaimed. She threw her hands up in another unladylike gesture, and Draco wondered briefly if she needed to retake her basic etiquette lessons. "It's pretty obvious by how you waxed poetically about Potter, that you have managed to dredge of some feelings of likeness."

"That's not true," Draco sniffed, crossing his legs at the ankle.

"Because normal people who despise another person go on and on about his 'stupid, soft hair', or their 'forest green' eyes."

"Those were accurate descriptions, and I'm appalled that you would view them in such a ridiculous manner."

Pansy rolled her eyes, and settled in for a long lecture.

* * *

**Harry's POV**

* * *

"Draco!" he called out, hand outstretched awkwardly as the blond left the room, stomping all the way down the stairs. Sighing, Harry placed the book he'd been reading the synopsis of back on the shelf, before taking Draco's recently vacant seat at the table.

"I don't recommend going back after him right at the moment," Blaise sighed exasperatedly, legs of his chair tipped back just the slightest bit. When he looked back up, Harry was still staring at the door.

"You look the part of a kicked Crup," Blaise said, settling the chair back on its four legs. When Harry immediately glared at him for the comparison, Blaise chuckled.

"Look, Draco's probably going to be harassing the house elves for a few hours, and maybe he'll get caught by Dobby, Draco's old nanny elf," Blaise added, when Harry's eyebrows rose in a silent question. "Just give him a few hours, and he'll have blown off all his steam. He's always been more bark than bite, anyway."

Once Harry had nodded his head in agreement, after making the most interesting thoughtful facial expression, Blaise settled in to tell even more of his marvellous date with Neville.

* * *

**Later on in the Day**

* * *

Closing the door behind him, Harry stretched his long arms before making his way down the long, winding staircase from the Malfoys' private library. It had been a lot larger than any he'd been in before, and Harry having being a secret book lover - Hermione didn't have full range over that particular aspect of life - he had enjoyed every single second of exploring the various nooks and crannies of it, even when Draco had stomped away in a strop.

Sighing, Harry rubbed a hand down the length of his face. Draco. Harry couldn't help but laugh as hard as he had when the blond was put on the spot like that by his younger brother. Harry had known Draco's eyes had been on his buttocks ever since he had made it into his line of sight in the library, and had privately preened over the affection, or at least lust, bestowed upon him by the Malfoy heir. It was nice being the centre of attention of his love.

As he set into his walk of the expanse of the Manor, as he was prone to do as late, he heard the unmistakable sounds of laughter coming from the vicinity of the kitchens. Raising an eyebrow, Harry quickened his pace.

When he turned the corner, he saw Draco leaning against the wall, head in his hands. A girl standing in front him had a hand clasped over her mouth, trying to stifle giggles to no avail.

"What's going on?" Harry questioned. Draco seemed to still immediately , as he had both been laughing and shaking his head in the negative, before lifting his head from his hands.

"Nothing, Potter," he said. Harry raised an eyebrow at the colour slowly rising to the blond's cheeks.

"Oh, so you're the infamous Potter?"

Harry's eyes widened slightly, before he calmly asked, "In what way?"

"Draco's suitor, of course," the brunette flapped a hand, the hand that had been over her mouth long since placed on her hip. "Whatever more could I have meant?"

Harry averted his eyes from her thoughtful gaze, settling upon Draco once again. Draco was firmly looking in another direction, blush still staining his cheeks in the most delight fashion. Harry smiled fondly at the other teen.

When he allowed his eyes to reluctantly trail back to Draco's friend, the girl was smirking at him. Shifting in discomfort, Harry cleared his throat.

"Mind if I speak to Draco privately, for a bit?"

The brunette's smirk turned into a soft smile, and she pulled Draco into a hug, whispering something like, "Denial," in a sing-song voice.

The blond swiped at her, but she danced beyond reach, strolling away at her own pace.

"So, about what happened in the library..."

"I wasn't staring at your arse!" Draco spoke too fast.

"Did I say anything about you staring at my arse?" Harry chuckled playfully. "Doth protest too much, methinks."

Draco's previous blush sprang back to life, along with a pout. "I wasn't, though."

Harry stepped in a bit closer, and Draco seemed to shrink back into the wall, glaring.

"Get away. Personal bubble. Don't pop it."

"Mine merged with yours," Harry waved off the protest. "That happens sometimes, with bubbles."

Draco's response was a mixture of foul language, and more than one reference to Harry's parentage. Despite the barrage of insults, Harry just stared at the blond's face: porcelain, white skin; a light dusting of freckles on his nose, too small to notice unless you were exceptionally close; a pair of rose-red, pouty lips.

"Adorable," Harry murmured.

"-nd, what?"

"You're completely adorable, you know that?"

"I'm not adorable! That's a phrase associated with fluffy Crups, and I happen to be a full-blooded wizard," Draco exclaimed in outrage, shivering with anger. Before he could say anything more on the subject, Harry laid a chaste kiss upon his lips before backing away.

"Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder," Harry smiled. His grin grew wider when he noticed Draco's finger unconsciously touch his lower lip. "I'll see you later. Maybe tomorrow at noon?"

Draco looked as if he would reply with something in kind, before growing profusely redder, as red as the darkest apple, and stomping away.

And this time, it was Harry who got to stare at his arse.


	8. 7

"Whatever happened to that navy blue cloak I sent you for Christmas?" Draco asked, leaning over his godfather's still-unpacked trunk of clothes. The professor sniffed in irritation, recalling just what had happened to the cloak. Or, more accurately, who had got to the cloak.

"One of the Gryffindors during class made an idiotic mistake and ended up burning half of it."

"What?" Draco's voice approached outrage, and then he pouted. He had spent a lot of time searching for that particular cloak, because Severus preferred a useful gift, above all else. He felt the man had needed a change in wardrobe, from all the solid black colours, and had sent the cloak in good faith that he would wear it, one day. To know that the gift had gone to waste because of a student's errors made him angry.

"You punished the fool, right?"

"Of course I did," his godfather flicked his eyes up to his godson's sad disposition and sighed, closing his book with an air of finality, not to mention the thud. "I took fifty house points away from Gryffindor, and gave him two weeks of detention to be split between both Filch and me."

"Good," Draco bobbed his head in agreement with the punishment. From what he had learned from his godfather, Filch was a Squib who wanted no less than the most torturous of punishments for naughty children. And while the thought was sickening, because Draco would never be okay with torture of any kind, knowing that the student who had destroyed a cloak he had bought as a present for his godfather had suffered the man's presence made it all the better. "I expected a no less fitting punishment from you."

"As always, the boy's impertinence was rather astounding, though I wasn't in the least bit surprised," the brunet trailed off, uncharacteristically dramatic. Draco found himself, literally, on the edge of the bed, and scooted back a few centimetres. "Weasley."

"Weasley," Draco vaguely knew who they were from outings to Diagon Alley with his parents. His father held no lost love for the family with whom they held a blood feud, and complained about the father a few times every year. They weren't important enough to speak of any further than that.

"Ronald Weasley," and Draco knew there was something more to this conversation than his godfather had previously let on to. He braced himself for something that would probably turn his world upside-down, or at least something similar. "He's friends with that boy, Potter."

"Potter?" Draco perked up. That was the last thing Draco had expected. "He goes to Hogwarts with Longbottom?"

"They're in the same year and house, Draco," Severus chided gently. "How did you not know that?"

"No one told me, and I never bothered to question Blaise and Potter's acquaintance," Draco mumbled, staring down at the thick, violet bedspread. He stood up from the bed with a grunt, brushing out any wrinkles in his slate-blue robes. "I think I need to go and ask a few questions of Brother Dearest. Let me know if you have any other stories for me."

"Wait, Draco," his godfather called out. Pausing, Draco looked over his shoulder at the older man. He stood straight, arms tucked behind his back, with an imploring expression on his face. Confused, Draco spun around to meet his gaze properly without risking a crick in his neck. "The Potter boy isn't," the expression turned from imploring to on the edge of pain. He gritted his teeth after pausing and finished with: "actually courting you, is he?"

Draco narrowed his eyes, figuring he understood just where this train was going. Nodding his head slowly, he drawled, "It's a tad complicated, really."

"So there's hope?"

"Hope?"

Severus averted his gaze for a split second, "He's no good, that boy. I would feel all the better if you would... break it off with him."

"But what if," Draco gulped, and a warmth flooded his cheeks at the very thought. It felt more embarrassing admitting what he might feel to his godfather, rather than Blaise and Pansy. "What if I actually do... kind of, sort of, maybe, like him?"

His godfather sighed, leaning back and pinching his nose. "Are you sure about this?"

"No, I'm not sure," the blond spluttered incredulously. "I just said the words 'kind of, sort of, maybe', did I not? Nothing is concrete about how I feel, or what I'm willing to admit to."

"All the better to quit while you're still ahead and settle for some proper, pureblood witch."

"Define proper."

Severus' head came up at a remarkable speed. Draco would've winced, but bit back the reaction. A show of weakness of any kind could cause his godfather to go and suggest something odd, or avoid the interrogative statement.

"Someone your father would approve of."

Draco was caught at that, and wondered just when he'd stop seeking his father's approval of such matters. Ducking his head, fringe covering his eyes from the older wizard's sight, Draco chewed on his lip. The taste of iron filled his mouth before long, and he came to an answer.

"I'm more worried about finding someone  _I_  approve of," he finally answered, pales irises meeting the coal gaze of his godfather. Severus' expression froze, one mirroring an inactive portrait's, before sighing in what seemed to be defeat, hand coming up to rub at the bridge of his nose.

"Don't say I didn't warn you."

Draco felt a smile grace his lips, tugging at the corners of his mouth. He bit the inside of his cheek in the high hopes of not revealing just how much the words Severus pronounced in resignation had filled him with a warm sort of happiness, but it seemed he'd lost that battle when the older man's face softened visibly.

Seating himself back on the bed, Draco leaned back and stared up at the ceiling of the room. "How are Vincent and Gregory doing?"

He didn't hear anything for several seconds, and shifted restlessly before deciding he needed to sit up and prod properly for the answer. When he'd finally fixed himself, Severus was staring at the bedspread with a dark apprehension written plainly on his usually carefully expressionless face.

"How are they doing?" Draco repeated.

"They are... behind."

"Behind?"

"Behind in their work, it seems. You know that they suffer from some sort of magical affliction, rendering them slower than their classmates. While the professors fully sympathise with them, it's getting harder and harder to have them memorise what they need for their classes.

"I'm afraid they might have to seek some sort of outside help, if it goes on any longer."

"Outside help?" Draco felt horrified at the humiliation, if that news were to travel from the school to the press. There'd already been enough speculation about pureblood involvement with that whole Riddle mess several years back. This could potentially cause a boatload of shame to descend upon the Crabbes and Malfoys. "How do two Hogwarts students get any sort of outside help?"

"The Headmaster has started up plans for a tutorial program, for those students needing extra help," Severus answered by way of story. "If anything, the situation has caused the Board to consider studying options for those who are, unfortunately, unable to meet the requirements of their classes in a timely manner."

Draco rested his elbow on his knee with his back hunched over, a hand cradling his chin. "Hm, well that could certainly help. Right?"

"One can only hope, Draco," Severus shook his head sadly, as if the sentiment in itself were devoid of just the thing it signalled. "Now, I need to set to unpacking my things."

"Why don't you have the house elves handle such a tedious task?" Draco inquired curiously.

"Those creatures will sooner touch my suitcase as find themselves accepting a shower of praises," he retorted as swiftly as the wind itself. "I have a certain appreciation of privacy for privacy's sake."

Snorting, and ignoring Severus' disbelieving stare, Draco hopped off the bed and headed towards the door of the room.

"Goodbye, Severus."

Though no reply met his ears, Draco knew without saying that his godfather was waving in farewell.

Now, to pry information out of his meddling brother.

* * *

When next Draco appeared in a room, this time it was his dear, younger brother's. Not even bothering to knock, he opened the door and strolled inside as if he already owned the entirety of the manor, and his brother's presence was just one of the things he dealt with.

"Oi," Blaise muttered, voice dripping with the effect of his exasperation. "Knock, next time."

"Relax," Draco shook his head, plopping down into a chair near the fire. With a snap of his fingers, a house elf appeared with a tea service and popped out just as soon as it had appeared. "It's not as if you were wandering the room starkers with an endless bag on your head, trying to discover the secrets of the world."

"That was the first time I had ever abused alcohol," Blaise growled, arms crossed over his chest in an act of petulance. "Why won't you ever let me live that down?"

"Because of a certain story you will almost certainly never let me live down," Draco was proud of himself. He hadn't even felt the twinge of warmth that usually came with the memory. "Now, Severus has enlightened me with a certain... tale of how you and Potter met."

"A tale? What tale?"

Sighing, Draco poured himself a cup of tea, added nearly the entirety of the tin of crystallised sugar the house elves had given him, and stirred slowly. "Potter is in Neville's house?"

"I would've thought you'd figure that out yourself, Draco," Blaise wrinkled his nose at the amount of sugar his brother had dumped into the tea cup. "They exude morality and goodness."

"Well, I hadn't really been focussed on the foundations of your acquaintance, Blaise."

"Was something, shall we say, distracting you and your usual perceptions, Draco?"

Draco glanced up to his brother's carefully blank face, though his eyes twinkled with smugness, and his tone seeped within the rivers of it all.

"Shut up," he spat without real venom. "Nothing distracted me. I just didn't care."

"If caring is what you call it," but before Blaise could finish the sentence, a tea cup was already sailing past his head, ricocheting off the nearest wall, and falling to the floor in a mess of dainty fragments.

"You were saying?" Draco asked, sipping at his tea, looking as if he hadn't just thrown a piece of fine china at his brother in a fit of temper.

Blaise cleared his throat carefully and shifted in his seat. "How do you mean?"

"Riiiight," Draco drawled.

Seconds passed in silence. The only sounds the clink of the teapot and silverware as Draco refilled his teacup, Blaise inevitably standing up and _Reparo_ ing the one located near the far wall, and the steady roar of the fire. It was, nonetheless, a not-unwelcome surprise when the relative quiet of the room was soon interrupted by their mother strolling into the room. Without knocking.

"Hello, Mother," Blaise greeted with a strained smile. He just wished everyone value his privacy as much as they valued Draco's. "How are you doing?"

"Well, sweetheart," she beamed, taking a seat on the chaise. She patted the cushions on either side of herself. Grunting, both boys immediately joined her. "I heard the most splendid news from one of the house elves."

Draco braced himself for impact. He had a good idea of which house elf it was, and he thoroughly cursed his luck in former-nanny elves. Dobby may be certifiably insane, with his need to wear clothing and demand payment for his services, but bloody hell did he tattle when he felt the urge to. It was annoying. He would rue the day he told on him.

"You mean about Harry?" Blaise questioned. And Draco braced himself, once again. Knowing his luck, Blaise would use this as the perfect opportunity to assuage his need for vengeance, after Draco's stunt with the Teacup of Doom.

"Oh, that boy?" Draco's head was ducked down, and he refused to look up for even a second. He knew his cheeks were burning up at his embarrassment, and he was so getting Blaise for this. "I've heard he's been hanging about as of late, Courting our dear Draco."

She reached down to pinch his cheek slightly, and Draco finally braved the embarrassment to bat at his mum's fingers. She merely replaced them with her free hand, and he realised she wasn't about to let go any time soon. He puffed out his bottom lip slightly.

"Not Courting, exactly," Draco murmured.

"But soon, right?"

"I'll definitely suggest the idea to him, Mother," Blaise said, all seriousness in his tone but amusement quirking the corner of his lips. "I'm sure Draco will be ecstatic."

And Draco didn't even bother to negate the surety of the statement, for he wasn't sure if it would be honest to begin with.


	9. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait :3
> 
> Warning(s): None

"Harry," Neville greeted upon his arrival, taking a seat across from the brunet at the library table. The brunet glanced up and waved his hand the slightest bit, head ducked down as he dipped his quill back in his ink well. "What are you doing?"

"Hermione and Ron wrote me letters, and I still haven't responded yet," Harry chuckled, leaning back in the straight-back chair to stretch his arms and back. A satisfying crack met his ears, and he grinned in delight when Neville seemed to shudder in disgust at the sound. "So, how are you doing? I haven't seen you in a bit."

"Blaise has been spoiling me," Neville smiled, eyes glazed over the slightest bit. Harry cleared his throat and looked back down at this letter. After scribbling his name down on the parchment in black ink, he read it over quickly and cast a drying charm on the letter. No need to write separate letters; after all, Hermione would probably read this one, anyway.

"So, how's Draco?"

Harry crashed his elbow into the table and let out a sharp cry, rubbing at his sore limb. "How do you mean?"

"You know, Draco? Bad temper? Slightly prejudiced? Likes to cast spells in the kitchens to cause the house elves grief?"

"He seriously does that?" Harry answered the question with his own question. "I thought his brother was just making that up."

"You haven't seen him when he's properly angry," Neville shook his head, cradling his head in his hand. "It's crazy how worked up he gets. Especially when you call him 'Dray'?"

"Dray?"

"He absolutely hates it. Something about his name being a proud one for any pureblood, and it being something of an insult to call him anything otherwise."

Harry allowed his mind to wander for a few heart beats, imagining a pissed, flushed, mussed-hair Draco with his arms crossed, absolutely fuming at whatever "great insult" Harry had done him. He swallowed the saliva that had flooded his mouth at the image, and shook his head.

"I can imagine it just fine," Harry smiled at Neville. Something about his face must've said something about the path his thoughts had taken, for Neville had an eyebrow raised in a Blaise-esque expression of amusement. "Really. And you're spending too much time with Blaise."

"What?"

"You're starting to act like him." Harry shook his head playfully at the other teen, especially since Neville was still doing that eyebrow-thing. "I promise you that, one day, you're going to find your entire wardrobe transformed into one befitting Blaise. It'll be terrifying, yet inevitable," pushing his chair in, he folded his letters in half and slipped them in his robes pockets, along with his quill and inkwell. With that task completed, he walked around the perimeter of the table. Placing a hand on Neville's shoulders in a gesture of consolation, he solemnly stated with a serious expression, "The first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem."

Neville took a second to eye at him with pure befuddlement written in his gaze. Finally, he sputtered a disbelieving, "What?"

Harry chuckled, and walked towards the nearest bookcase, scanning through the various tomes and their various titles. As always, with the wizarding world, he couldn't help but wonder just what the authors were going for with the names.

After spying a rather interesting copy of  _The Parables of the Preternatural Pixie Pirates_ , Harry extracted the book and slunk back to the library table.

"Wizards have the oddest imaginations," Harry began, flipping the pages of the book. Neville raised his head in acknowledgment, head lying atop his arms. After a few minutes of reading, Harry read out one of the lines from the book.

Both were chuckling at the idea of twins, especially pirate twins, having telepathy of any sorts - though Fred and George seemed to be the entire personification of the theory, making Harry wonder if the author had been associated with the both of them - when the door opened.

In stepped Blaise.

Harry stifled a chuckle of amusement when Neville perked up, gaze landing automatically on Blaise at the sound of the door clicking shut behind him. When Blaise spotted Neville, he strode in closer, pecking the brunet's mouth in what started as a chaste kiss. Harry politely glanced away and at his literature when it went on longer than originally anticipated.

A few minutes later, when Harry sensed it was safe, he peered back at his friends. Blaise had an arm slung around Neville's shoulders, seated next to him at the table, and Neville looked utterly besotted. Backing up from the table, Harry needlessly announced his desire for another book and stood, striding back towards the book shelves.

Scanning the titles, once again, he was caught by surprise when Blaise sidled up next to him.

"Potter," he greeted, bobbing his head in acknowledgement. Eyebrow upraised, Harry greeted him similarly.

"Blaise."

"So, my mother wants to know when you're planning on officially announcing your intention to Court my older brother," Blaise stated, arms folded in front of his chest, expression revealing nothing but blank, detached curiosity.

Harry nearly took a step back, he was so bewildered.

"What do you mean?"

"I sometimes forget you have no idea about pure-blood traditions," Blaise sighed, shifting his hands so that they were on his hips, instead. Before Harry could retort, he explained, "A Courtship is a fancy, pure-blood phrase for a tradition centred on wooing a potential lover."

Harry scrunched his mouth to the side in contemplation, letting loose a near-silent, "Oh."

"Are you going to, then?"

"Well, how would I even go about Courting Draco? I'm assuming it's not nearly anything simple as dating and the like."

Blaise nodded his head in agreement, beckoning Harry forward to another section of the library. Though the shelves held no defining characteristics or identifying marks for the types of material you'd find contained within each section of bookcases, Blaise seemed to navigate the area with ease. Probably because he's lived here all his life, Harry mused.

After a few minutes of traversing the shelves, Blaise picked out a huge pile of books and divided them evenly between himself and Harry, for ease of transport. Once they'd arrived at the table, Harry was careful to not merely dump his armful of books on the table, instead settling them down in the semi-neat stack he'd carried them in.

"Giving Harry a helping hand, I take it?" Neville asked, an amused smirk on his face. Harry just shook his head in reply to the rhetorical question, pulling his chair out and falling into it with a loud  _thump_. When he looked up from his lap, Blaise and Neville were snogging again.

"It's cute the first time around, but sheesh," Harry playfully commented. Neville broke apart from his lover with crimson cheeks, whilst Blaise just seemed to be smug at Neville's reaction. "Now, where should I start?"

"I suggest you tell me just what you would hope to do for Draco on your dates."

"Um," Harry scratched at his scalp, leaning back in his chair until the two front legs were raised in the air. "I would probably continue as I have been, including gifts when the time arrived. Draco seems like he loves presents."

"Loving presents is an understatement," Blaise rolled his eyes at whatever memories of his older brother's expressive want for toys when they were younger he possessed. "It's with a fiery passion, I might add. You could be enemies, and he'd probably become a reluctant friend when you gifted him with something. But he also has very specific tastes, which is why a situation like that wouldn't usually happen, anyway..."

Harry grinned at the thought. He always did like a challenge, after all.

"So, you're saying I would have to carefully select every single present I would want to give him?" Harry asked.

Blaise bobbed his head. "Yes, that is essentially what I am telling you."

"Okay," Harry lifted his gaze to the ceiling, feeling his first wave of apprehension and nervousness envelop him. "No pressure then." With a long, deep breath in, and a long, deep breath out, Harry settled his chair back on all four of its legs and picked up a book.

"So, do any of these books have lists of these Courting rituals?" He squinted at the book's ridiculous title,  _One-Hundred and One Ways to Best Get Your Man_ , and placed it back on the table with exaggerated precision. He wasn't sure he wanted to actually look through it.

"Yes, in fact," Blaise smirked in glee. "They are spread throughout these books."

Harry's eyes widened in astonishment, and no small bit of fear. "A-all these books?"

"Well," Neville smiled gently. Harry was sure his eyes were twinkling in a manner reminiscent of a mischievous cat. Yes, he'd definitely been hanging about Blaise for too long. "You do believe Draco is worth it, right?"

When Harry reluctantly nodded his head with an audible gulp, Blaise continued on with. "Consider it a task on a quest, on your latest escapade," the brunet glared at Blaise without much heat. "In order to win the Prince's hand in marriage, you must prove yourself worthy. And that means reading through all these books, taking notes," a fresh inkwell, quill, and parchment appeared on the table without so much as a pause in his speech. "And searching for the Courtship ritual that best represents yours and my older brother's future relationship."

Harry felt the level warning in Blaise's tone and made sure to show his acknowledgment with a firm nod, if slightly hectic, bob of his head.

"Good, now," Blaise slid the writing implements and parchment over to Harry. "Hop to it."

With a groan, Harry set to do just that.

* * *

"Mummy," Draco began, head resting on Narcissa's dainty shoulder. "Do you think I'm making the right decision?"

"About your Harry?" She questioned, raising a hand to slide her fingers through his silky, white-blond hair, so like her own in texture and colour.

She knew a flush when she created one on her son's face. She smiled softly, in response.

"He's not mine," Draco grumbled, untangling himself from his mother in order to look at her while he spoke. "But, anyway. Do you think I'll be making a bad decision if he asks for my participation in his Courtship, and I have to face Father in his anger?"

"How does he make you feel?" Narcissa questioned, leaning over to pour herself another piping-hot cup of tea. "Let's start at that."

Once she was settled comfortably on the cushions, Draco sucked in a deep breath and let it out smoothly.

"Well, he infuriates me," he started, picking at his nails in his restlessness. She felt satisfied when a mere look from her halted him in his ministrations. "That's one. And he can keep up with me in my banter. He never seems to take any of my insults to heart, which is also infuriating. And he keeps me on my toes. He even manages to surprise me with every little thing he does. He set up a mini ice cream parlour in one of the dining halls just the other day, you know, without mean noticing..."

As the minutes passed by and he soon ran out of things to say, he bit the inside of his cheek in realisation.

"Thanks, Mummy," he shot a bright grin her way. She merely lifted up her tea-cup higher, the better to conceal her fond smile in response.

"Whatever for?" She asked, placing her now-empty cup back on the tea service. "I sat here and listened to you go on and on about him. You did all the work."

Draco's smile dimmed, but never in its intensity. "I guess I did."

"And I will handle your father. I haven't been married to him all these years without a clear idea of how to... have him understand my opposing perspective. After all, you went to Beauxbatons."

And Draco realised, on that day, just from where he had inherited his manipulative abilities.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone XD This fic has just skyrocketed in views, kudos, bookmarks, and comments in such a short amount of time! I do appreciate every single one of you, for reading this and responding, even in something as simple as a bookmark. Thank you! :D


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